


How to Save a Life

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Depression, Drugs, First Meetings, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex for Favors, Suicidal John, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The early morning sunlight weakly filtered through the window as John Watson sat at his desk.  The former Army Captain and surgeon cleaned his gun.  In his heart he knew it would be the last time.  Today was his last day.  There was nothing left for a surgeon with a tremor.  Years of schooling wasted, shattered by a single sniper bullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Save a Life

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning popped into my head after reading many such hurt/comfort stories. I sorta wanted to write a "Sherlock is a Prostitute" story... But it didn't quite happen. Maybe next time? 
> 
> I know this thing just leaves off... I'd like to think of it as a "beginning" of an alt reality in which Sherlock didn't have the "work" to motivate him. 
> 
> Title came from the song by Fray, "How to Save A Life." Yes, I listen to The Fray.
> 
> Warnings: Suicidal thoughts/count down. References to Sherlock's drug addiction.
> 
> Edit: I uploaded this July 2014. For some reason there is a huge flood of readers March 2015 (50 kudos in 2 days!). I'm just curious to know where you are being linked from. Someone in my comments mentioned a fanart with a link to here. I haven't seen it. Can someone please tell me?

The early morning sunlight weakly filtered through the window as John Watson sat at his desk. The former Army Captain and surgeon cleaned his gun. In his heart he knew it would be the last time. Today was his last day. There was nothing left for a surgeon with a tremor. Years of schooling wasted, shattered by a single sniper bullet. Opening the drawer to his desk he set the gun inside. 

^.~

John Watson limped through the park. 

“John? John Watson?” A familiar voice called.

John barely recognized the man who stood, smiling at him. “Mike Stamford? How are you?”

“Fine! How are you? Weren’t you in the Army? What happened?”

“I got shot.” John answered, feeling his wound twinge at the look of pity that crossed Mike’s face.

“Are you living around here?”

“Bedsit. I have a small Army pension. I can barely afford it.” In fact he couldn’t afford it. There was nowhere for him to go and without the ability to support himself… “I’d need a roommate. But who would want me?”

Mike nodded absently and shrugged. “Don’t know, mate. Maybe your sister?”

John shook his head. Harry was out of the question. She had given him a phone and that was it. “She’s busy with her life.”

“It’s tough.” Mike mused. “Anyway… Have to get back to work. We’ll grab a pint sometime?” And with that he was gone.

^.~

John frowned and checked his wallet. There was just enough to pay for what he wanted. His final “hurrah!” Here lies John H. Watson, he shagged a prostitute hours before he offed himself. 

Approaching the women he smiled. “Hello.”

“’Ello!” The brunette with huge breasts replied. “Looking for something?”

“Perhaps some company?” John suggested. 

“How much you got?” The brunette asked.

“50 quid.” John replied.

“I can keep you company.” The brunette smiled at him. “Have a place nearby?”

It was only a block from his bedsit and he led her down the street. As they approached the door a homeless man who was sitting on the stairs looked up at them. “I wouldn’t use her services if I were you.” His accent was posh which didn’t fit with his ill-kept appearance. 

John attempted to pass the homeless man but the man reached out and grabbed his knee. “Piss off!”

“Listen to me… Don’t do it. Your health is at risk.”

John glanced down at the dirty, stained man. “Yeah?”

“If you are so desperate for company I will offer my services instead. All I require is the use of your bathroom and a meal.”

It had been a long time since John’s last awkward venture into exploring his latent bisexuality. “Um.”

“I haven’t bathed in weeks… And I haven’t had a bite to eat in days. I’ll get you off for free if I can use your bathroom and drink a cup of tea.”

John sighed. Homeless man wasn’t his idea of a decent shag… But the man was desperate for kindness. If John could leave this world having made the difference in one person’s life… It would make his death not so bad. “Very well.” Opening his wallet he handed the prostitute his last 50 quid. “Take care of yourself.”

“Your loss!” The brunette replied and scampered off.

John opened the door and waved the homeless man in. Once they reached his bedsit he indicated the bathroom. “Go ahead. Call if you need anything.” Shuffling into the kitchenette he put together a plate of food consisting mostly of a sandwich and some crisps. The kettle was beginning to whistle when a man stepped out of the bathroom with John’s towel wrapped around his waist. 

The man was tall and pale. The facial hair was gone as was about an inch of hair. The matted brown mass became curls. “Is that for me?” The posh baritone asked.

What gave John pause was the ice blue eyes and the cheekbones. His face was gaunt from lack of eating. “Yes. Sit.”

The man elegantly crossed the room as if he wore a tailored suit instead of a towel. Sitting down at the table he began to eat. 

John finished making the tea and set it before his guest. “How long have you been living rough?”

The man paused in his chewing and then resumed, swallowing before answering. “A year.”

“A year?” John watched the elegant man inhale the sandwich.

The man waved John’s echo away and took a sip of tea. “I’ve been in and out of shelters… Mostly out.”

“What’s your name? Mine name is John, by the way. John Watson.”

“Sherlock.” The man answered and started on the crisps. 

John watched Sherlock eat, occasionally adding food to the table. It wasn’t like he was going to need the food. There were only a few hours left before his final send off. “You don’t have to shag me.”

Sherlock blinked in the process of licking his full bottom lip. “We made a deal.”

“I know… But being of some use to you is payment enough.”

“Is it?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I just came into your home, used your towel and razor… Your toothbrush. I ate your food and drank your tea and that’s payment enough for you?”

“Yes?” John took a step away.

Sherlock stood up and came around the table to stand in front of John. “You gave a prostitute everything you had in your wallet even though she did nothing for you.”

“I was feeling generous?” John tried.

Sherlock stared into John’s eyes. “You… Plan to die tonight. How? What is your method?” Sherlock spun around and looked around the small room. “No… No… No…” Finally he approached the desk and opened the draw. “Oh! Happy dagger!”

For a moment John blinked. Was that Shakespeare? 

Sherlock immediately shut the drawer and turned his attention back to John. “Suicide by gun. Am I right?”

John bit his lips and bowed his head, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself.

“Suicide? Suicide… Why?” Sherlock went back to John, looking him over. “Something is wrong… Something in your life has changed. You’re embarrassed. Embarrassed why?” Suddenly Sherlock’s fingers began to unbutton John’s shirt.

“Hey!” John protested, attempting to step back and encountering the bed and sat. 

Sherlock knelt before him, continuing to unbutton his shirt. “I’ll figure it out before or after you die. You may as well let me look while you’re still able to answer my questions.” And with that he managed to pull off John’s shirt. “Oh!” Sherlock’s eyes focused on the still healing wound. His fingertips lightly traced the edge of the wound before sliding down John’s arm to take his hand. “Oh… You were shot in military action. Your hand is trembling.” With a glance back at the table Sherlock stared at the mug John had given him for his tea. “You are a doctor. A surgeon.”

“Past tense. I’m nothing now.” Hastily John pulled his hand away. 

“Nothing?” Sherlock scowled at him. “I’m the one living on the street. I’m the one that offered to let you have your way with me in exchange for a shower and a sandwich. I think you are mistaken as to which of us has ‘nothing.’”

John shook his head. “I have nothing. I can’t afford this bedsit. My pension is… Pathetic. I can’t do this anymore. What are you doing?”

As John had cried out his woes Sherlock took the opportunity to undo John’s trousers and pull down his pants enough to expose the tip of his cock.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?” John asked.

Sherlock leaned down and licked the tip of John’s cock.

“You don’t even know where I’ve been! I don’t know where you’ve been. You have track marks… Are you a junkie?” For the first time John noticed the red marks on the inside of Sherlock’s elbows.

“Does it matter? You plan to kill yourself. If I have anything you’re not likely to have any symptoms in the next few hours. But for what it’s worth… I always use clean needles.”

“Wait!” John pushed Sherlock’s shoulders back to force the other man to look up at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Sherlock countered. “I live on the street. You’re a doctor. How diseased can you possibly be?”

“I would still feel better if we used a rubber.” 

Sherlock sighed and got up, stomping off towards the bathroom and returning with John’s box of rubbers and a jar of lube. Impatiently he held out both items to John. “Happy?” In his process of stomping off the towel loosened and promptly dropped to the floor as he stood before John, revealing an impressive half aroused cock. Sherlock kicked the towel aside and forced the items into John’s hands before kneeling on the floor before the former doctor. “I told you I would get you off. That’s what you wanted… That’s why you brought home that prostitute.”

“But… You don’t have to…” John insisted even as Sherlock pushed him back on the bed and started to tug on the waistband of his trousers. “I just…” His shoes and socks were pulled off and his trousers were tugged down his thighs. “I just wanted to mean something to someone.” His pants soon followed and too quickly he was laying naked on the small bed.

Sherlock rested his chin on John’s upper thigh, staring up the shorter man’s torso. Making eye contact he smiled. “Close your eyes. You may be bisexual but you are still nervous around men.”

“I think I’d prefer to keep my eyes open.” John replied.

“Suit yourself.” Sherlock whispered and licked John’s penis from base to tip.

“Not too much… You’ll make me cum too quickly.” John focused on the ceiling, taking in the sensation of hot mouth sucking on his cock. “You know you’re good at this.”

“I’ve had practice.” Sherlock chuckled and kissed the tip. “My dealer takes fellatio as payment. This is my first time doing this on a bed, though… Naked.” Swallowing John down to the base he hummed softly.

John twitched and moaned, kicking his legs gently. “God…” As John was just about to cum Sherlock pulled off and kissed John’s navel. 

“You taste better, though.”

John sat up a bit to look down his body at Sherlock. “I was almost there.”

“I know.” Sherlock smirked and kissed John’s navel again. Sitting up he reached for one of the foil wrapped rubbers. Awkwardly he fumbled with the latex sheath, a look of confusion on his face.

“You’ve never used a condom before?” John queried, taking the rubber from Sherlock’s hand. 

“No… Sorry.”

John expertly rolled it onto his own cock.

Sherlock got up and straddled John’s body. 

“Wait! You have to prepare yourself.”

“Already did that.” Sherlock replied as he reached down to steady John’s penis.

“When?”

“In the bathroom. I even used the lube.” Sherlock grunted, feeling the first breech of John inside of him. Slowly he eased himself down until he was resting on John’s hips. Taking a deep, cleansing breath he smirked and then moved his hips. 

“Ah… Fuck…” John muttered as Sherlock’s tight heat engulfed him. Reaching out, he held the other man’s hips in an attempt to help control his erratic movements. 

“Is it… Good?” Sherlock asked.

“Good.” John grunted in return. 

“You’re… Big.”

John frowned at that. He knew he was about average. Vaguely he wondered what size men Sherlock usually shagged if he was considered “big.” His eyes focused on the long torso of the man above him. 

Sherlock whimpered and bucked, his hand reaching down to idly stroke himself in time with the movements he made.

“Here… Let me help.” John reached down and took Sherlock in his fist, pumping it.

Sherlock cried out and began to writhe in earnest, pushing himself into John’s hand. “Yes… John… Like that!” With a final groan he slouched forward, warm wetness falling onto John’s chest as Sherlock’s ass tightened.

“Oh… Oh!” John wrapped one arm around Sherlock’s back and pushed his hips up as his own climax overwhelmed him. 

Sherlock took many deep breaths before pulling off and rolling onto his back beside John to stare up at the ceiling. “Is it always like that?”

“What?”

“That? Sex… Is it always like that?”

“Don’t you know?” John asked as he pulled off the condom and wrapped it in a tissue to throw away.

“That was my first time.”

John paused in his clean up and stared at the man who lay beside him. “You’ve never had sex before? I thought you said…”

“You hear but you do not understand.” Sherlock answered wearily, dropping an arm over his eyes. “I use fellatio to get drugs. That is the extent of my experience before now.”

“You were a virgin?”

Sherlock frowned. “A bit.”

“Mutual masturbation? Penetration? None of that?”

“Never really saw the point to it…”

“You’ve had men ejaculate in your mouth and yet you’ve never wondered what it felt like to have the same experience?”

“Is that bad?”

“But you liked what we just did?”

Sherlock pulled his arm from his eyes and stared back at John. His eyes focused on a spot of liquid on John’s chin. “Is that my ejaculate?” Deftly he used his finger to wipe it away and taste it. “Tastes like it could be…”

John resumed his initial cleaning, using tissues to wipe Sherlock’s cum from his belly and chest. There was a lot of it. “You liked it?”

“Of course I liked it.” Sherlock answered and rolled onto his side to face John. 

John tossed the last of his tissues away and rolled over to face Sherlock, staring at the strange man he brought home.

Sherlock reached out and cupped John’s cheek in the palm of his warm hand. “Live?”

“There’s nothing for me. No job… No rent for this bedsit… I’m better off…”

Sherlock scooted closer and wrapped his arm around John’s waist, pressing their foreheads together. “You can have me.”

“I can’t have you…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a person. You’re not something to have.”

“Even if I give myself to you?”

“That’s not how that works.” John chuckled softly.

“Did you enjoy what we did?”

“Of course.”

“And that’s not enough to live for?”

“Life requires more than just shagging, Sherlock.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“How will you do that? You live on the street.” John pulled away to lay on his back. “You can barely take care of yourself.”

Sherlock bit his lip and shifted to rest his head on John’s chest, careful to avoid his shoulder. “I have connections. Connections that would help me if I asked. I would ask for your sake.”

“What?”

“My brother has been trying to get me off the street for the past year. Before now I had no desire to accept his aid. But if it meant I could share it with you… I will. I’ll do it.”

“Sherlock…”

“My name is Sherlock Holmes. My brother is Mycroft Holmes. He is the British government and his greatest embarrassment is that his little brother is living rough on the streets, occasionally drugged out of his mind. I will take his aid if you come with me.”

“You barely know me!” John protested.

“I know that if I leave you will end your own life. I claim your life instead. You’re a doctor. You can help me recover from my addictions.”

“I don’t have any experience with…”

“You help people. That is your nature. You can’t help people right now because of your wound. You think your life no longer has meaning. Let me give you meaning.” Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at John’s face. “Help me and I’ll help you.”

“I can’t accept.” 

Sherlock leaned down and lightly kissed John’s lips. His breath smelled of John’s toothpaste and the sandwich he ate earlier. “I’ll let you fuck me.”

“That is hardly an incentive!” John protested. “Sex isn’t payment.”

Sherlock smirked and kissed John again. His hand reached down to cup John’s genitals. “It just feels really good. And I want to keep having sex with you.” To punctuate his point he gave a squeeze. “Don’t you want me?”

“What I want is hardly the point. You can’t take advantage of your brother by forcing him to help me.”

“Of course I can.” Sherlock answered, moving to rest between John’s legs. “He has no choice. Otherwise I will stay on the street and possibly overdose. Why should I live if I can’t be with you?”

“You’re attempting to manipulate me…”

“Why? Is it working?” Sherlock chuckled softly. Sitting up he lightly traced John’s cheek with a fingertip. “You’ve given up on life. Give me six months and I will attempt to give your life back to you. After six months if we’re both still sleeping in a gutter because my brother refused to help us I will let you go. Six months, John. What difference does it make if it’s tonight or six months from now? At least let me try. Live for me, John? Please?”

John nodded.

Sherlock’s face brightened and he leaned down for another kiss.

^.~

John woke the next morning at the same hour he always did. For a moment he debated getting up and cleaning his gun. But then the man in the bed next to him shifted in his sleep. John rolled over and watched Sherlock slumber. Gently he pushed wild curls away.

Sherlock woke to the touch and blearily opened his eyes. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” John replied.

“You’re alive.”

“Looks like it.” John whispered, scooting closer to wrap himself around the other man. 

“Good. We have much to do…” Sherlock yawned and immediately fell back asleep.

John watched Sherlock sleep… This strange man who chose to be homeless rather than allow his brother to help. If Harry had offered… But Harry didn’t, did she? No. But this strange man offered and asked for nothing in return. Just John’s care. Could he help this man recover from his addictions? Could he be a proper companion and friend? 

Sherlock nuzzled into him, tangling their bodies together and pressing his morning erection against John’s naked thigh. 

John reached down and caressed the warm flesh. “You want me to take care of you?”

“Mm…” Sherlock hummed in agreement, lazily pushing himself against John’s touch. “Feels good, John.”

John wrapped his arms around the other man and snuggled against him, vowing never to let go.

^.~

Epilogue

Mycroft stared at the man his brother presented to him. Background files told him John Hamish Watson was former military who suffered from depression in response from a wound that ended his career as a surgeon. 

John glanced at Sherlock. The man looked much different than the homeless man he had allowed to use his shower only a few days before.

“You’re in a sexual relationship with my brother.” Mycroft didn’t ask.

“Not that it’s any of your business… But yes.” John replied.

“You are aware that he’s given blow jobs for drugs in the past.”

“He told me.” John answered.

“You planned to kill yourself the night you met my brother.”

John scowled and blinked.

“He was to be your last bit of sexual release before the void. How did he change your mind?”

“Don’t you know?” John retorted. “You seem to know everything else.”

“Ah yes… Offering to take advantage of my generous nature in exchange for your continued survival.” Mycroft sat back in his chair and rested his hands on his desk. “You are fortunate, John H Watson, that I would do anything to return my brother to sobriety… Even overlook his attempt to extort me. Aid him on that path and you earn your room and board. Be my brother’s keeper. Good day!” 

And with that they were excused.

“What just happened?” John asked as they left Mycroft’s office.

Sherlock responded by pulling John to him and kissing him. “It means I get to keep you.” Grabbing John’s hand he pulled the shorter man down the hall. 

“Where are we going?”

“Home.” Sherlock answered. The flat they were given put John’s bedsit to shame.

\--Finis

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been keeping up with me... You know I've moved. I have been at the new place now for a month and a half. Moving completely disrupts your life! I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing now that most of my house is mostly unpacked (Except my office... We won't speak of that). I have a Spock/Kirk fic somewhere around here... Also a serial Sherlock/John.


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